Alexandra Bel-Robere – Winter Castle (1972)

Review by Justin Tate

With little hesitation, a young teacher accepts the mysterious invitation to summer in Norway as the hostess of an extravagant castle/hotel. Why not? It’ll be a working vacation—a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Besides, after the recent deaths of her mother and father, escaping the familiar haunts of South Carolina will be a relief.

Vinterborg, an isolated castle nestled among picturesque fjords, soon proves more demanding than mere summer employment, however. Before recovering from her long flight, Freya is confronted by a cast of suspicious characters who waste no time plotting against her. Her mother’s heirloom necklace is stolen within seconds and a brutal push down stone steps nearly kills her. What’s really going on in this creepy hotel anyway?

Cads and love interests make the rounds. Friendly and jealous women circle about, though it’s impossible to know which is which. An older man becomes obsessed with her likeness to his dead ex-wife. Ghostly activity is reported among corridors and secret passageways. The body count starts to rise. Are these murders related to recent blood sacrifices in the nearby pagan church? Will Freya make it out alive before a fearsome Norwegian winter turns all to ice, blocking travel until spring thaw?

Gothic literature is not known for great variety in its winning formula. Here we see many of the genre’s favorite tropes, including isolation in a grand castle with dark history, gorgeous scenery viewed primarily from a distance, an orphan girl discovering secrets about her past, inheritance scheming and marriage plots. Ann Radcliffe would’ve made a significant attempt to imply supernatural elements are afoot, but the pseudonymous “Alexandra Bel-Robere” gives only a slight effort.

As far as 1970s Gothic Romance, AKA “Women-Running-From-Houses” novels, are concerned, this is actually a stand-out entry. Norway offers a glorious backdrop and the castle itself is well-stocked with intrigue. At first it seems the numerous characters will be too dizzying to remember, but soon each has a distinguishing trait which makes their identity (and potential motive) easy to recall.

The murder mystery element is well-executed, with enough plausible solutions to be difficult to guess, but not so many that the reader feels left out of the game. A dramatic finale explains unresolved questions efficiently without long-winded speeches. I felt driven to read it rapidly to the end, which is not always the case in this genre.

Certainly not a game-changer or inventive use of Gothic expectations, but genre fans will find it does effectively scratch the itch. The author, whose real name is Judith Sagarin, deserves praise for her handling of a large cast of characters and scenic descriptions that provide just enough detail to feel exotic without slogging down the pace. This appears to be Sagarin’s only published novel. Unfortunately, I found no biographical information about her. If someone else has information, please email me.